In the Wake of Dragon Fire
by TheGreatIntelligence
Summary: AU where Thranduil gets his scar from Smaug. After trying to claim the mountain for himself, many years before the quest of the dwarves, Thranduil must learn how to cope with the terrible injury that has left half of his face mutilated. Legolas goes on a little quest of his own to try to claim Tauriel, an attempt to be ignorant of his father's state.
1. Chapter 1

"_Ada_, can I go with you?"

Thranduil looked down at his son who was almost reaching his shoulders in height. Legolas was growing fast, and he wondered if he would be taller than him someday.

"Not this day, _ionn_." Thranduil put a hand to Legolas' shoulder. "There are important things to be done that are too dangerous for you to partake in."

Legolas rolled his eyes, a gesture ill-fitting of his status, but Thranduil let it slide.

"_Ada_, it is no secret that you seek to drive the dragon out of Erebor," Legolas said. "Let me go with you."

"This task is not for you, Legolas." Thranduil gave his son's shoulder a fond squeeze. "Stay here and attend to your studies. Your tutor says that you are showing laziness in matters concerning history."

Legolas frowned, looking down at his feet as Thranduil removed his hand. "But-"

"If I hear one more word of it, I _will _bring you with me," Thranduil sneered, a plan to deter his son coming to mind. "And you shall witness the horrors of battle: the blood, the screams, the _death_." Legolas lifted his head to meet his gaze, eyes going wide. "You will feast your eyes upon the fire drake that invaded that mountain and be powerless to the great wave of fire that he will release. Your hands will be shaking so terribly that you will not be able to hold your bow or shoot straight. And I would not let you run."

Legolas' gulp was audible, and he was looking up at Thranduil with wide eyes that at the moment were much younger than his actual age.

"You understand me?"

"Yes, _ada_." His voice was quiet.

"Good." Thranduil changed his tone to calm his son a bit. He gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Look after things for me while I am gone, will you?"

Legolas nodded. He seemed hesitant to leave, however.

"What is it?"

"Will you come back?" His voice was high-pitched, frightened, not the voice that belonged to a boy in his teens. The sound of it pricked Thranduil in the heart like a little needle, and he leaned down to get to his son's eye level.

"I always come back. And I will return victorious." He embraced Legolas tightly, something he didn't do very often, something he didn't always have time for. His son's worries were starting to gnaw at him. Of course there was always a chance that one wouldn't come back from a mission such as this, but he had to do it. There were things in that mountain that he _needed. _Besides, it unnerved him ruling a land that lay in the shadow of that beast. Better to attack his home before he attacked theirs.

"Alright, _ada_." Legolas gave Thranduil a hopeful smile as he released him. "Bring me one of his teeth?"

"I certainly will, _yondion_." Thranduil flashed Legolas a smile and patted him on the shoulder one more time. "Now, I must depart. This dragon will not loom over us anymore. I will slay him with my own sword."

"Good luck, _ada_."

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><p>The battle was not going well. The dragon, Smaug, had not been asleep in the caverns of Erebor like he had been rumored to be. Instead, he wandered those desolate halls and guarded his treasure. He had been <em>waiting <em>for them to strike.

"My lord!" one of Thranduil's generals called to him, feet thumping on the stone as he ran over, armor jingling and clanking. He took cover with his king behind a pillar. "We must retreat!"

Thranduil flinched as another of the dragon's roars splintered the air, followed by the blistering heat of flames. They weren't even close enough to touch and he could still feel how hot they were!

"Not until this monster is dead!" Thranduil shouted over the noise.

"But, sire, we cannot get in close enough to possibly kill him."

"We have to."

Thranduil took a deep breath to fill himself with determination, and came out from behind the cracked pillar. Smaug stood farther away down the stone hall, wings spread to amplify his size, teeth bared in a menacing gesture. Elves surrounded him, stabbing at his feet, most getting stomped on. Thranduil was forced to duck behind a pillar as another bout of fire came.

So many dead. He couldn't let their deaths be in vain. He couldn't leave this creature alive.

When the fire died down, Thranduil stepped out from behind the pillar, sword held firm in his right hand.

"Smaug!" he called over the noise. The dragon's head swiveled in his direction. Apparently he had heard him.

If a dragon could smirk, this one certainly did. He crashed through the elf soldiers to come closer to Thranduil. The king stood his ground, but it felt like his insides were melting from pure fear. He was so large, so terrifying, so impossible to beat. If it wouldn't have been beyond his dignity, he would have dropped his sword and fled.

_I am a king. This creature is nothing. I am a king. Besides, if I ran, I would certainly die._

"You dare address me, little elf?"

"I am King Thranduil Oropherion Greenleaf!" His voice was clear and proud.

_Good. I am doing good. Just keep it up._

"And I dare address you!"

Smaug laughed, the noise coming from deep within his chest, a rumble that sounded like distant thunder.

"And why have you come here with your annoying, petty army, little king?" Smaug seemed amused by all this.

"This mountain is not yours!"

"And it is not yours either," Smaug said. His head swung down, massive yellow eye suddenly resting right in front of Thranduil, just out of reach of his sword. "You are too tall to be one of the dwarves that I stole all this from."

"That is true," Thranduil said. The eye blinked in the most unnerving of ways. It looked to have three lids. He nearly shuddered, but he kept up his facade of calm. "A deal then. Since this mountain does not belong to either of us, we both leave."

Smaug drew himself up and laughed again. "Or how about you run, little king." He opened his mouth, and an orange light flickered from inside his scaled belly.

Thranduil's heart leapt into his throat and he whipped around, eyes frantically searching for the nearest pillar to take cover behind. He felt the fire chasing him as he raced over to it, a new coating of sweat popping out on his skin. He felt like he was going to lose his eyebrows in the blistering heat. There was crackling as his cape caught fire. He reached up his left hand and ripped it off just at the same time that he skidded behind the pillar.

The terrible fire was everywhere, and he wished that he had something more substantial to hide behind than this crumbling stone pillar. He wished that he didn't even have to hide in the first place. A king shouldn't have to hide.

The fire licked around the edges of the pillar and roared past him and out into the hall. It tapped at his armor until the metal scorched the fabric of his clothes underneath. His skin began to sting like he had been out in the sun for much too long.

It got worse, so much worse. It touched his face. Thranduil tried to scream, but couldn't, falling to his knees, hands desperately trying to snuff the flame that was in his skin and eating his flesh. The fire around him dwindled, but his skin still burned. _Everything _burned. He'd never felt such pain in his life before. He knew in that moment that he was going to die.

"Sire!" His general came running over, and he felt something over his face, felt the fire stop, but the pain did not. It pounded through his nerves, an excruciating, indescribable agony that made him unsure of what to do with himself.

His body decided that.

With an anguished moan, Thranduil collapsed to the scorched floor of the hall and lost consciousness.

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><p><em>Ada <em>- father

_ionn_ - son

**A/N: Well, I hope you liked it, and I plan on putting the next chapter up soon. I felt like it would be interesting to delve into the emotions surrounding Thranduil's scarring, as it seemed to be brushed over in the fandom. No one talks about it or anything, so here we go. Emotions involving our (hopefully) favorite elf king!**


	2. Chapter 2

_The red and orange leaves crunched under Thranduil's bare feet, light shining through the branches of the trees. He closed his eyes and drew in a strong breath of crisp, morning air. This was exactly what he needed: a walk in the forest all on his own to get away from the stress of the palace. Legolas had asked to go with him, but he had denied his company. He needed this time alone._

_He curled his toes in the grass and spread his arms, looked up towards the rays of the sun. He could feel nature all around him, the world breathing, the trees whispering to each other. Autumn had come to drive the summer away and the trees were shedding their warmth, ready to settle down into sleep._

_The elvenking opened his eyes to watch the leaves gently drift downwards from the trees. One grazed across his nose before fluttering away and he laughed. He hadn't realized how much he had missed being outside. He had been confined to the palace due to important matters, but now he was free. He felt like he had no worries in the world._

"Ada."

_Thranduil looked down in shock to find Legolas holding his hand. His head was only just above his waist._

"_Legolas, I bade you not follow me."_

"_But I'm worried about you, _ada_." The elf child gripped his hand tighter._

"_You need not worry, _ionn_. I am perfectly fine!" He laughed and knelt down to get to eye level with his son. "Why don't we play a game?" His lips quirked up in a smile._

"_But, _ada_, we cannot play!" His poor son looked distressed._

"_And why is that, _ionn?"

"_You are _hurt!"

"_I do not suffer at all, _ionn." _Thranduil's brow creased in concern. "Are you faring well?"_

"Ada!" _Legolas' eyes were now pointed skyward, and he threw up an arm to point. The fear in Legolas' voice instantly directed Thranduil's gaze up. His crystal blue eyes widened in horror._

"_The leaves…" he muttered in terror. In the next instant, he threw himself over his son, crushing them both to the ground. The leaves had suddenly turned to balls of flame that were raining from the sky. They landed violently all around them and set the grass ablaze._

_Legolas was struggling under Thranduil._

"Ada! _I need to help you! I need to protect you!" His head popped out from between Thranduil's arms and the elvenking instantly covered him again._

"_No, _ionn!" _He flinched when a ball of fire landed right next to his face and he held on tight to Legolas. Suddenly, his son wasn't underneath him anymore. Panic thrashed into Thranduil's stomach and he stumbled to his feet. Fire fell all around him._

"_Legolas! Legolas!"_

_Fire suddenly landed on his face._

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><p>Thranduil woke with a gasping breath that sparked a terrible pain in his face. He tried opening his eyes. Something was wrong with his left one. He couldn't see out of it. It hurt like it had been stabbed by a hot blade, and it was covered by a bandage, along with the rest of the left side of his face. He felt a hand gripping his, and he gave it a tight squeeze, hoping it was his son.<p>

"_Ada!_"

"L-Legolas, what happened?" He groaned loudly. Oh, Varda, but it hurt to speak. Everything felt so _wrong. _His face! What was wrong with his face?

"You do not recall?" His son's voice was concerned. Thranduil directed his good eye towards his son. His face was creased with worry.

Thranduil didn't want to speak again for fear of the pain. His face felt like it was on fire. Was that what had happened?

_Why can I not bring this memory forth?_

"No," he murmured, closing his eye again. The last thing he remembered was leaving Mirkwood to do… what? He thought hard, and it created an ache in his head.

"Smaug," he whispered weakly. Yes, that's what had happened. He had left Mirkwood to drive Smaug out of Erebor. What had happened to his army?

"Your generals saved you from the mountain," Legolas said. "Many perished by the dragon's fire."

_Surprised I did not. _He wished to speak this out loud, but how could one talk with his face so injured? How was he supposed to do _anything? _Could his healers fix such extensive damage? It felt like it was extensive. What was he to do?!

"_Ada_?" He felt Legolas' hand on the right side of his face. There must have been some sign that he was inwardly panicking. "Everything will be alright. You are being attended to by your best healers."

"Have you…" Thranduil breathed out a hiss of pain. "Seen it?"

"Your wounds have been hidden from me," Legolas answered. "The healers claim they are too terrible for me to see."

_Then how am I to remain king if I cannot show my face? _The notion of such deformity ignited a fear deep inside him. Thranduil had always been proud of his looks, like all elves were. What would it be like to look in a mirror and not recognize the face looking back at him? How would he be able to live with himself once he knew what he looked like. He was already missing the image of himself he was usually presented with: flawless skin, strong nose, powerful cheekbones, piercing blue eyes… Now that would be gone from him. He felt an ache in his throat, a sign of impending tears.

_No. I must not show weakness to my son._

"_Ada, _it is alright to reveal your emotions." Legolas' voice was soft. "It is not a weakness."

_Yes it is._

Thranduil lifted a shaking hand to pull his son's off his face, then rolled onto his side away from him, a sign for him to leave him be.

"_Ada_…"

"Go," he muttered quietly. "Leave me."

"Yes, _ada_."

Thranduil listened to his son's fading footsteps, and only then would he let a lone tear trail from his right eye and down his cheek. Only one tear to lament his pain and lost beauty.

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><p><strong>AN: Short chapters for a short story, but I hope you like it anyway.**


	3. Chapter 3

The stone skipped across the pond four times before plopping down and disappearing, spreading rings through the murky water. Legolas looked down at the stone in his hand and just threw it in with a _plunk_. He was too grim to use the delicate twist of the wrist that was required for skipping stones, much unlike Tauriel, who was trying to cheer him up.

The red-haired elf sitting on the boulder beside him laughed softly. It sounded a bit forced. "Legolas, you will have to try harder if you want to beat me."

"It is not a contest, Tauriel," he said. "Besides, if it was, it would be boring anyway." He halfheartedly threw another stone into the water. It sank quickly to the bottom.

"I am trying to raise your spirits, Legolas," she said as she stood, flaming long hair swishing around her. "We could go riding."

Legolas met her green gaze with his solemn blue one. He just shook his head.

"Hunting?"

"No."

"But you brought you bow."

Legolas pointedly looked at hers, slung on her back. "For protection."

Tauriel sighed and sat down beside him again, almost crushing her hair underneath her. Legolas wondered how she managed with hair so long.

"You are no fun." She gave him a mock glare and curled her lip in a way that Legolas found incredibly attractive. He drew his attention back to the water, but he just saw her reflection.

_Why is she so pretty? _He'd finally admitted to himself that he liked her as more than a friend, but he was trying to repress it. He knew that his father would never bear to see him with a Sylvan elf. He'd had the lecture about it before, when he was younger. He hadn't understood why his father wouldn't let him be taught along with Tauriel. He had explained that Sylvan elves weren't as intelligent or beautiful as Sindarin elves, and that they were lowly beings, almost the equivalent of humans. Looking at Tauriel, he didn't believe a single word his father had told him. Legolas was allowed to spend time with her now, just because Thranduil thought that he had learned well enough to not feel affection for her.

_But how could I not become attracted to her? _Legolas glanced at her again. It seemed silly of his _ada _to think of Sylvans in such a degrading manner. He could be so self-centered sometimes.

Legolas frowned at his thoughts. He shouldn't think of his father in such a way, not when he was hurt the way he was. He had been glad that he had still had his bandages when he went to visit him. He was terrified to see what his face looked like now. He couldn't imagine how Thranduil felt about it.

"I am unable to have amusement while my _ada _lays injured in bed," Legolas said grimly.

"He will be fine, _gwilwileth_!" Her voice was frustrated.

"Why do you call me that?"

Legolas was surprised when Tauriel suddenly grabbed his shoulders and shoved him off the rock. She landed on top of him and gave him a mock glare. It then turned into a smile.

"Because I can."

"Get off me," Legolas snapped. He wasn't in the mood to play around, and he was uncomfortable with having Tauriel on top of him like this. She was so close. The way her lips curved…

"Why?" She winked at him and he felt his face flushing red.

Legolas shoved Tauriel off of him and stood. "_Lle holma ve'edan._"

He realized what he had said when Tauriel picked herself up off of the ground and faced him. Her expression was hurt, crestfallen.

"Fine, be on your own if you want to." Her voice was like acid, and she turned to go.

"Wait, Tauriel! I did not mean that!"

Tauriel paused and glanced back at him, then continued on her way. It wasn't long before she disappeared among the trees.

Legolas slumped back down on the rock.

"I am such an idiot!" Hopefully Tauriel would forgive him. Telling another elf that they smelled like a human was practically the worst thing that could be said. Would she understand that it had just slipped out because he was in a bad mood?

_And I am uncomfortable around her?_

"Right, I am _definitely _an idiot." Legolas stood, deciding that he would head back to the palace, which was situated inside of a cave, hidden and easily defensible. He groaned when he realized that if he went back he would have to deal with his tutor. He had skipped his lesson _again._

_Well, better go get it done and through with. I hope _ada _does not hear about it. I doubt he will be troubled with anything, in his condition._

Legolas was solemn as he made his way back through the darkened forest to the palace.

_I should have gone with him to Erebor, _he thought. _Perhaps I could have protected him. _He regretted not sneaking after the army to the mountain. Perhaps his father wouldn't be so badly wounded now if he had.

_No, stop thinking of yourself as a hero when you have seen no action. I would probably be dead if I had followed along. _Ada _is lucky that he is not. Besides, I have already learned what trouble can happen when I do what I am not supposed to._

Legolas was now thinking of his mother. She had died saving him because he had been a reckless, haughty idiot. That had been almost twenty years ago, but every thought of it hurt like an arrow impaling his chest.

_You are lucky you did not lose _ada _too. _

Mood now even more grim, Legolas made his way back to the palace.

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><p><strong>gwiwileth - butterfly (thought it would be super funny if Tauriel called Legolas that)<strong>

**Lle holma ve'edan - you smell like a human**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, a lot of people are asking how old Legolas is and how old he seems to be to humans. Legolas is in his 30s or 40s, which is equivalent to human teenage years. I imagine him as looking to be around 15. I hope that was helpful.**

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><p>Thranduil was in more pain when he woke than he had been in when he had fallen asleep. He had no idea why, because he was still on his back. Someone must be making sure that he didn't roll over in his sleep. He sensed that there were others in the room, but he didn't know who. Was he in his bed chamber, or the healing halls?<p>

He slowly opened his good eye to look around. He tried moving his head, but it flashed pain through his face and stiff neck. He gave a quiet groan as he inspected the room.

_Yes, I am in my own bed._

That comforted him. He didn't want to be in the healing halls where so many would see him weakened like this. It wasn't fitting for a king.

He stared at the sunlight coming in from his window for a bit before turning closing his eye. His chambers were situated on the outer side of the cave so that he was graced with windows and balconies. However, the light was too much at the moment. It seemed to bright, too glaring, too much like the fire…

"_Nin brannon,_" a male voice said softly. "How are you faring?" The voice belonged to Baineth, his lead advisor.

Thranduil tried as best as he could at a glare with his one good eye. "You find this to be a just question?" he murmured quietly.

Baineth frowned. "I apologize, _nin brannon, _but there are matters requiring your attention."

"Such as?" His throat hurt and his voice scraped from his mouth. He needed water or some other form of drink.

"No, no, do not trouble him," came a female voice that was nearing his bed. He didn't recognize the elf that it belonged to: most likely a healer. "He must rest."

"But-"

"You may deal with matters on your own for now, Baineth," Thranduil spoke softly. Every movement flashed a horrible burning through the left side of his face, like it had been set on fire again, but he refused to show his pain. That would be beneath him.

"Yes, _nin brannon_." Baineth bowed before him and then left the room, boots clicking on the stone floor.

Thranduil heaved a sigh and closed his eye again, ready to go back to sleep. He was just so _tired. _It was strange what pain could do to someone.

"How is the pain, _nin brannon_?" the healer asked.

"I am questioning whether or not my face is on fire again," Thranduil responded in a whisper. Hopefully she would hear him. Was there anything that could be done about it? Would his face be returned to normal? He didn't want to look at himself until it was.

"I will help you sit up, _nin brannon_." Thranduil opened his eye again at the words. He hadn't realized that the woman had been holding a cup. "This tea will help soothe your pain."

"Alright." The woman put an arm under him and helped him sit. The movement was taxing, which greatly frustrated him. The cup was put to his lips and he reluctantly took a sip, the movement hurting beyond belief. The liquid was warm and delicious, but he couldn't tell what the flavor was; however, he refused to take another sip.

"You have to drink, _nin brannon_," the woman coaxed. "I know it hurts, but you must."

With a quiet groan, Thranduil decided to do as he was told. He drank down the rest of the tea quickly, wanting to get it over with. He was relieved when it was all down his throat and he was allowed to lay back down. He rolled onto his right side, tired of laying on his back. The pillow felt luxurious on his skin.

"Is there anything I can get you, _nin brannon_?" the woman asked, taking a step back. "Water, food-"

"I do not hunger," Thranduil murmured. "Let me sleep."

"Yes, _nin brannon_."

The woman left the room and Thranduil was on his own, but he couldn't find rest. The pain in his face was too much to bear, and, though horrified, he took the time to analyze it.

He realized that the pain was like an outline that nearly touched his nose, lips, and ear, and that he couldn't feel whatever lay in the middle. The nerves must have been burned away, or maybe even more than that.

_That would mean I look atrocious, _he thought in horror. _When these bandages come off I'll look like a monster. No one will want me as king._

Thranduil couldn't help creating an image in his mind: his flesh and muscle burned away, a blackened, gaping hole in the side of his face that led into his mouth, a terrifying, grotesque cavern outlined by red. Was his eye missing? He couldn't feel it, but certainly he would know if it was only a socket, wouldn't he? Either option was just as bad, however.

_And what of the rest of my face? Can I really feel them or they just free of pain?_

Tentatively, Thranduil took in a deep breath through his nose. He could feel that. Good. He licked his dry, cracked lips, and he felt the sensation of wetness. Most anxious about this, he brought a hand up to his left ear and traced the curve of it, stopped at the point. He could feel that as clear as day. _Very _good. An elf's ears were held as one of the main signs of beauty. He had no idea what he would have done if he had found it missing.

Thranduil laid his hand back down and licked his lips again. He was thirsty. Maybe he should have allowed that healer to fetch him some water.

That led him into more thoughts that made him shudder.

_If I drink something and tilt my head, would it just fall out of the side of my face? _He shuddered again, and there was a strange, low, somber note with it: a sob. Thranduil hadn't cried in so long that he had forgotten what it felt like, what it sounded like. The movement hurt his face, but once he started he couldn't stop. The pain… The horror…

_Why did this happen to me? _There were tears running down from his right eye. His left, if there was an eye, seemed incapable of making them. _Why? Why me?_

His sobs were loud and unrestrained. The elvenking no longer cared about showing weakness. One would in his position and should be allowed to.

He felt like he was living in a nightmare. It ached in his chest to know that next he looked at his face, it would not _be _his face. His face had been burnt away and ruined, scorched out of existence by the pounding flames of a wrathful dragon. The memory of the fire flashed in his head, and he could see it all over again: the bright red and orange flames chasing him, and how he ran and felt like he couldn't get away, the terrible, sinking feeling that he _hadn't _gotten away. Yes, he was truly living in a nightmare.

Thranduil covered his head with his hands as if to protect himself from the imaginary fire. He tried desperately to flush the image out of his head.

_Think of flowers. Of trees and birds. _Those images were quickly driven away by the twisted, darkness that had become the Greenwood, and then that went up in flames.

_No, no! Think of the palace. _The image stayed longer this time, but then the stone itself started burning, the fire licking up through the floor and flickering in the walls. The picture crumbled away like blackened, burning paper.

_Think of Legolas! _The image of his son, joyous and smiling, appeared in his mind. Fire couldn't ruin his son. He wouldn't let it happen.

But it did anyway.

Legolas was still smiling at him as fire began to lick up his feet and legs, then his torso.

_No! Stop! _Thranduil wished he could do something, but he was helpless, that fire creeping up on him, longing to destroy. It had gotten a taste of elven flesh and wanted more.

The skin peeled off of Legolas' face, and then the muscle and everything underneath until he was left with a scorched skull. He was still smiling, as if nothing had happened.

"_No!_" Thranduil screamed this out loud. Why couldn't all of this get out of his head? What was happening to him?

Still faced with Legolas' skeletal smile, he screamed again, louder, uncaring that it could be hurt outside of his chamber.

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><p><strong>AN: Yes, I'm creepy. You like?**

_nin brannon - _my lord


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it took so long to update. This chapter was tedious to write, but the result was worth it. Hope you like it!**

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><p>Legolas sat carefully and tentatively in the chair beside his <em>ada's <em>bed. He was waiting with bated breath for him to wake from his slumber, but he didn't move at all. The right side of his face, the only part visible, was twisted in pain. It saddened Legolas that he even felt it in unconsciousness.

With no one else in the room but him, he had the urge to pull off the bandages and look at the wound. The healers had said it was too horrible for him to see, but there were no healers here right now.

_But _ada _would not want me looking._

Legolas frowned, tapping his right hand against his thigh. His curiosity was urging him to do it, but what if it woke Thranduil?

_But I need to see. _He thought it unfair that his father's wounds had been hidden from him. If the healers could look, shouldn't he be able to as well?

Legolas raised a hand to Thranduil's face, lightly touching the bandages.

_No, no, I shouldn't. _He brought his hand back to his thigh where he continued tapping his fingers. He bit his lip in thought, looked around again. What if someone came in? What if his _ada _woke?

But he couldn't stand the fact that his injury was hidden from him. He _should _have the right to see. He wanted to know what his _ada _had gone through at Erebor. It had been four days and Thranduil had barely spoken a word to him or anyone else. Had he eaten? _Could _he eat? The more he sat here and thought about it, the more anxious he became. He _had _to see what was under those bandages.

Legolas gave his father an experimental nudge in the shoulder, trying to see how deep in slumber he really was. He didn't react to the touch. He nudged him harder this time, and he still didn't move.

He was suddenly feeling very guilty about wanting to do this, but he _needed _to see. There was no question about it.

Carefully, Legolas brought his hands up to Thranduil's bandages, trying to find where the two ends were pinned together. Luckily, it was in the front, probably because having it in the back would loosen it if he moved.

He slowly unclipped the two pieces of linen from each other and placed the pin down on the bed. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Legolas pulled away one end. It was stopped when it wrapped around to the back of Thranduil's head, and he bit his lip in thought. Would he wake his _ada _if he moved his head? Should he even be doing this?

_It is fine, _he told himself. Ada _will not wake. You can do this._

Legolas placed a hand on his _ada's _chin and very gently turned his head to the side so that the right side of his face was resting on the pillow. He waited anxiously in silence after removing his hand, wondering if he had woken him, but Thranduil still lay still.

Taking another deep breath, Legolas drew his attention back to the bandages on his father's face. He slowly began to unravel them, trying to be as quiet as possible and trying not to move his head. He seemed far into unconsciousness, but he didn't want to risk waking him.

His anxiety was festering deep inside of him as he continued. Did he really want to look? What if it was true atrocious for him to see? What if his reaction woke his father?

His curiosity kept him going however, even as fire ants crawled around in his stomach. He had to see what had been done to his _ada. _

All of a sudden, Legolas stopped, the bandages halfway unraveled, but the wound still hidden. He suddenly _didn't _want to see. He wanted to remain in ignorance and pretend that nothing had happened to his _ada _because seeing it would just make it real and more horrifying. He was already laying unconscious in bed, and seeing why would just terrify him. Best to leave it to his imagination, because so far, his imagination hadn't wanted to conjure anything up. Yes, ignorance was better.

_But… _

_No. Ignorance._

Legolas began to rewrap the bandages as quickly and nimbly as possible. Thranduil murmured quietly in his sleep and he felt a spark of panic and guilt strike in his stomach. He had to hurry. He had to make it look like he hadn't even been here. His father couldn't wake with him here, still in the process of putting his bandages back in place.

No longer caring how they looked, Legolas finished up his work with the bandages as quickly as he could and replaced the pin. There. They definitely weren't as tight as they had been before, and they were a bit messy, but it would have to do.

Before his father could make another move or wake, Legolas hurriedly left the room as if his guilt was biting at his heels.

* * *

><p><em>Thranduil stood before the large mirror in his bedchamber, examining his reflection. A king had to look prestigious to stand before a council, and prestigious he did look. His robe was of a deep blue, and across his chest he wore a silken sash of gold. His trousers were supple black leather, his gray boots soft, comfortable, and stylish. His hands were adorned with rings that matched his winter crown, a silver headdress that took the shapes of twigs. The crown was simple, but elegant, as was the season of winter.<em>

Everything seems to be in order.

_Thranduil strode away from the mirror, but stopped himself. He had forgotten to check his face! With a small, amused shake of his head, he went back over to the mirror, eyes studying his face. He tilted his head this way and that to see if a different light would cast realization on any blemishes - a stray piece of hair touching his cheek, a forgotten crumb from his breakfast - but there was nothing. He smiled at himself in the mirror. He might need to be capable of a good smile today._

But should I smile with my teeth showing or without?

_Thranduil laughed at himself as he changed expressions in the mirror. It would be terribly humiliating if someone were to walk in on him to find him doing such ridiculous things with his face._

_Everything about his face looked alright, but something felt _wrong.

But what could be wrong with my face?

_Confused at this feeling, the elvenking turned his head from side-to-side. His skin was smooth, flawless, and glowing. Nothing wrong, yet something felt terribly off._

How odd.

_Just out of curiosity, Thranduil brought both hands up to feel either side of his face. The right checked out, but there was something off about the left. The skin was _too _soft, if that was even possible._

No, I am just being ridiculous.

_He patted his left cheek to reassure himself, and the skin once again felt fine, though he noticed that that side of his face was much paler than the other._

I cannot go out looking like this!

_How could one side of his face be whiter than the other? He also had a dark circle under his left eye, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep, yet his right was perfectly fine. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Thranduil brought up his right hand and covered the left side of his face, leaving the right exposed._

_Awake, healthy, and flawless._

_Then he moved his hand to cover the right side of his face to solely examine the left._

_Gaunt, tired, and pale._

_Thranduil sighed. Was there anyway to touch it up to make the two sides look the same? Why did they look different anyway?_

Maybe some blush.

_He had a small assortment of makeup for certain occasions to make himself look presentable at all times. No one ever knew when he was tired or if he had a tiny scratch on his face. He would always cover it up so that his skin stayed looking flawless._

_Thranduil went over to his large, oak vanity where he kept it and found it laying out on top. Odd. He hadn't remembered leaving it there. Shrugging, he gracefully sat in the chair, took up the makeup and the applying brush, and set to work in front of this second mirror._

_It was difficult to cover this up for some reason. Every time he applied some makeup, it would just crumble off his skin, standing out in contrast to the vanity in small grains. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he would try again and again, but still with the same effect. _

_Thranduil threw down the blush before he could have a pile of the stuff on his vanity and angrily stood, going back to the other mirror. He looked at himself more closely._

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe I am just being silly.

_He was about to leave the mirror again, but he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He took a step back and gazed into the mirror. Something was _moving, _slithering. He twirled and scanned the room, but there was nothing there. Confused, he turned back to the mirror, giving a sudden gasp and taking a hurried step back. A dragon was glaring back at him with yellow eyes. It was small, probably just a projection, but it sped up the pace of his heart nonetheless._

_Thranduil turned his head to look over his shoulder, making sure that there wasn't really a dragon in his bedchamber. Still nothing there, so he turned back to the mirror._

"_Smaug?" He had suddenly remembered this dragon's name. Had he met him before?_

_The dragon laughed, low and rumbly._

"_I think you missed a spot, little elvenking." There was light burning in his throat and deep inside his belly. Smaug reared up and opened his mouth. Fire suddenly burst through the mirror before Thranduil could turn and run, twisting towards the left side of his face._

_Thranduil screamed and fell back on the floor._


	6. Chapter 6

Thranduil awoke with a gasp, jerking upright in his bed. He realized that there were people around him as they stepped back, shocked by his sudden awakening. He took a gasping breath and looked around with his right eye. Just a group of his healers. He was relieved to see that Legolas wasn't there. It would do no good for his son to see him like this.

"_Nin brannon, _is everything alright?" one of the women asked.

"Bad dream," Thranduil responded in a hoarse voice that was very unbecoming of him. His throat was dry.

"They will be common," another one of the healers said, a man. "You went through a traumatic experience."

Thranduil couldn't really remember the dream he had had. All he remembered of it was fire, but nothing else. That was all he had been able to think about since his injury. There must be something wrong with his mind, an ailment in it. Could it be fixed?

"I have to go relieve myself," he announced. It was undignified, but they were all crowded around his bed, looking like they weren't going to let him move. He didn't really want to think about how that had been taken care of in his nearly-comatose state, but just a quick thought made his cheek flush red with embarrassment.

"Do you need assistance?" another healer asked, another man.

Thranduil tried his best at an incredulous look with only side of his face showing. He only now came to realize that his eyebrow had been singed off.

"I can walk fine on my own, thank you." His tone was like acid. He threw the blankets aside and swung his legs over the bed, relieved to be wearing trousers: the soft, comfortable ones that one would wear to bed. He hesitated before touching his bare feet to the stone floor. Were his legs weak? What if he shook?

Casting aside his worries, telling himself they were pointless, Thranduil touched his feet to the stone and stood. It was cold under his flesh, but he did not react to it. His knees shook a little, legs protesting after not having been used in some time. He took a staggering step forward as the healers moved away from him.

"_Nin brannon-_"

"I am fine!" he snapped. It was annoying to have so many worrying over him. He shoved one man out of his way to prove his point and stumbled into the bathroom.

Thranduil stopped at the mirror before going over to the toilet, examining his reflection. The bandages completely wrapped around the left side of his head, only leaving his ear exposed. His jaw fell a little in shock when he realized that his hair on the left side was gone and that some of it on the right had been singed off. Hair was a sign of beauty among the elves and now most of his was gone. This one thing added onto all this trouble just made him want to cry, but he stiffened his bottom lip and refused to let a tear come to his eye. It wasn't befitting of a king.

Finally, he tore his gaze away from his reflection and tended to his needs. He looked in the mirror again after washing his hands. He looked so… _ugly. _The skin on the right side of his face was blistered and cracked, as if he had been left out in the hot sun for days on end. It hurt terribly too, but not as much as the left side. He had given up on trying to describe what the pain felt like. It was burning and _constant_, which made it all worse. It just wouldn't go away.

Thranduil suddenly felt very tempted to pull off the bandages and look at his injury. He didn't bring his hands up to do it though. At the same time that he wanted to see, he also wanted to remain blind to it, to not know what he looked like. Besides, the healers would not want him to do it.

With a sigh, Thranduil left the bathroom. All the healers were still there, waiting for him. He counted five. Apparently they had been about to tend to him when he woke.

The last thing he wanted to do was get back in bed, but it looked like he wouldn't have any other choice.

Legs a bit more used to what they were doing, he made way over to the bed without incident and laid down on top of the blankets. The healers came around him again and he suddenly felt very overwhelmed.

He flinched as one woman reached out towards the left side of his face. It scared him that he couldn't see what she was doing, but with some straining of his right eye, he figured out that she was beginning to remove the bandages. She directed for him to move his head to the right side and he did was he was told. Might as well make their job easier.

"It looks like you laid on this side while sleeping," she commented. "The bandages are a tad messy. Does the injury hurt more?"

"It is difficult to tell when it just hurts all the time," Thranduil responded, tone irritated. It still hurt to speak. Why should they ask him pointless questions? Why were there five of them in here anyway? Why not just one?

"Why are there so many of you?" he asked. He tried glancing over at the healers with his right eye, but his vision was blocked by the pillow. He wasn't given a response, the silence boiling anxiety deep in his belly.

His face felt light when the bandages came off, _too _light, not at all like the right side. As a test, he took in a breath through his mouth, terrified as he was of what might be revealed.

Most of the air went down his throat, but he felt some of it leak sideways, flow past the inside of his cheek, or what should have been the inside of his cheek. The small bit of air that had escaped the passage to his lungs traveled around a cord of muscle, and then through a maze of smaller ones, before finally reaching his throat. His right eye went wide - it didn't feel like he had lids on his left one - and he felt like he was going to be sick. His _cheek _was missing! But no, being sick would make it worse. He didn't even want to think about it, but with every panicked breath he could _feel _the mutilation of his face. He found tears streaming out of his right eye without his consent. His left eye didn't seem capable of making them. Did he even have a left eye?

"_Nin brannon_, please try to relax." That was the healer who had removed the bandages. She placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He barely felt it. All he felt was the wrongness in his face and the air rushing at a sickening, dizzying pace in and out of his lungs.

_This cannot be true. Oh, Varda, I feel like I am living a nightmare!_

"_Nin brannon…_" He didn't pay attention to the voice, could no longer hear it. There was heat pounding in his ears and his stomach lurched. _Why _had this happened to him?

Thranduil was vaguely aware of being rolled onto his back, and he squeezed his right eye shut. Maybe if he didn't look at anything, the dream would fade and leave him alone. Maybe he would wake up in bed next to his wife, sweaty and shaking, but unharmed. Yes, this all must be one big nightmare. The last twenty or so years of his life was all a nightmare that kept getting worse and worse. He just had to wake up from it.

"Let me wake up!" he shouted. "Please! Just let me wake up!"

"You are not dreaming, _nin brannon!_"

"I am! I am! Please let me wake up!" The tears were flowing faster from his right eye and he felt sobs bubbling up his throat. Every movement hurt his face more than the last.

"_Nin brannon_, please try to calm down."

The statement suddenly replaced Thranduil's panic with anger. He sat bolt upright, eye going wide, and grabbed the nearest healer by his robes, hoping it had been the one that had spoken.

"Calm down? Calm down?!" He shook the man, examining the horror in his eyes. "You want to see how calm _you_ are when half your face is missing you _nadorhuan! _Someone go get me a knife so I can show this dumb _dwarf _what it feels like!"

"_Nin brannon…_" The man's face had gone very pale and his voice was quiet.

"_Auta miqula orqu!_" Thranduil shouted, giving the man another violent shake. "Get out of my sight before I rid you of yours!" He shoved the healer backwards, satisfied when he stumbled backwards onto the floor. He quickly scrambled to his feet, bowing pathetically as he left the room.

Silence followed, all except for Thranduil's angry, heaving breaths. He gazed around at the remaining four healers - two men and two women - with his good eye.

"If any of you says a single word to me, I will have you publicly beaten. Understood?" The healers just glanced anxiously between each other and meekly nodded their heads.

_Good. They won't try to reason with me. _

Thranduil laid back down and waved his hand. "Continue your work."

He soon learned that their work consisted of things that hurt him. They rubbed a salve on the right side of his face that caused it to burn and he spit curses at them, but he knew the worst was yet to come. He was held down as one healer began applying the same salve to what remained of the left side of his face. Thranduil screamed as the pain in his face - beyond all possibility - increased. He wasn't capable of words, of ordering their executions like he wanted to. All he could do was scream and hope that the pain would go away. Slowly, very slowly, as the healers continued their work, his body began to go numb, and then there was nothing.

* * *

><p><em>nadorhuan <em>- cowardly dog

_auta miqula orqu - _go kiss an orc

**A/N: Hope you liked the chapter with a very unreasonable Thranduil. The next chapter will feature Tauriel and Legolas. Please leave a review. Silent readers are welcome, as they are still readers, but not cherished. I enjoy hearing what you have to say about this. Be honest, don't sugarcoat anything if you need to critique it. I hate sugarcoating. It doesn't get me anywhere. Come now. Don't be shy.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I named Thranduil's elk. **

* * *

><p>After leaving his father's chambers, Legolas decided to visit his father's elk. The animal was probably upset about Thranduil's recent absence. Besides, he had carried him all the way back home safely, so he deserved some attention other than the occasional feeding from the royal grooms.<p>

Legolas wasn't quite sure if the elk - Evindal was his name - actually liked him. He hadn't spent too much time with him, but he seemed really grumpy. He at least seemed to like his _ada._ The animal had been around for as long as he could remember, probably longer. He often wondered what the grooms put in his food.

Evindal had a spacious stable all to himself on the east side of the cave that housed the palace, a place where windows were cut into the stone. The floor was covered in hay to keep the elk comfortable. There was a pool of drinking water near one of the windows. There was a large bowl on a pedestal that was half full with berries and apples, Evindal's usual diet. A rack on one of the walls held various tools for cleaning. There was a chest under it that probably contained the saddle and bridle. The elk himself was lounging in the middle of the room, looking rather melancholy and bored.

"Evindal!" Legolas called, trying to get the elk's attention. He hadn't lifted his head at his entrance, but he did now, looking at Legolas with big, solemn eyes.

Legolas grabbed an apple from the bowl and came over to Evindal, kneeling on the floor beside him. "My _ada _is injured, but he will be alright." He offered the apple to the elk, who only gave it an unenthusiastic sniff. "You will see him soon." He shoved the apple under Evindal's nose, urging him to eat. If elks could sigh, this one certainly did, but he took the apple, munching on it as Legolas continued talking. He knew that the animal could understand him. There was an amount of wisdom to his eyes.

"Thank you for bringing him home safely. You are a good mou- er… friend." Legolas decided that the elk would get offended by being called a mount. Evindal just snorted in irritation, stood, and took a few steps away from Legolas.

Legolas straightened and brushed off his trousers, frowning.

_So he does not like me. I did not think so. _

He would feel bad about leaving though. Evindal should at least have _some _company.

_Maybe he will grow to like me._

Evindal gave Legolas a rather nasty looking glance and then went to drink from his pool of water, closing his eyes and completely ignoring him.

_I suppose he picked up his personality from my father. _He hated to admit that Thranduil could be cold, but it was true. He knew that he was fond of him, but it didn't show as often as it used to.

"Has anyone brushed you lately?" Legolas asked, trying to ignore the elk's unfriendly demeanor. He went over and grabbed a curry comb from the rack on the wall, then went back over to Evindal, who was still stubbornly drinking too much water and refusing to look at him.

_Silly animal._

With a roll of his eyes that he knew he would have been chided for had his father been there, he rolled his eyes and approached Evindal. The elk raised his head from his pool of water and gave Legolas a questioning look as he began to brush his thick pelt with the curry comb.

"I am trying to be helpful," Legolas explained. "You do not have to look at me like that."

Evindal snorted, and before Legolas knew what was happening, turned and kicked out at a him with a back leg. He was suddenly on the floor on his back, the breath knocked out of him and a pain in his ribs. It felt like he had forgotten how to breathe.

"You should have expected him to do that," came a familiar voice from the doorway. Tauriel. Legolas turned his head and tried to say her name, but nothing came out. His lungs were still panicking about the sudden escape of air. With a wheeze, he sat up, taking large breaths.

"I-I thought you would not want to b-be around me," Legolas gasped out. "H-How did you know I would be h-here?"

"Lucky guess," Tauriel replied. She came around to face Legolas and craned her head down to look at him. "I was actually looking for an apology."

"You cannot possibly think that I meant what I said the other day," Legolas said incredulously.

"I do not care whether you meant it or not." Tauriel's voice was irritated. "You said it and it was hurtful."

"Alright, alright. I am sorry."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

With a sudden smile, Tauriel grabbed Legolas and tugged him to his feet. "Good." She brushed off his clothes for him, and he barely suppressed a blush. "We can go do something fun now."

"Like what?"

"I just got a flute from my _nana_," Tauriel said. "We could try to figure out how to play it."

"Do you not have a teacher for that?"

"Doing it with you would make it more fun. I met the teacher. He's a bore."

Legolas smiled. He had missed Tauriel, glad that his terrible remark from their other time together hadn't driven her away from him for long. He really hadn't meant it. He had just been upset.

"But what about Evindal?" Legolas asked, looking over at the elk. He still stood near the windows, looking gloomy.

Tauriel shrugged. "He does not like you, so you might as well not bother him. Let's go." She grabbed Legolas' arm and tugged him out of the stable.

* * *

><p>Thranduil picked at the food on the plate in front of him. He had woken feeling hungry and had ordered a servant to bring him dinner, but now he wasn't so sure about eating. How could one eat while missing their cheek? Would the food go right through? Did the muscles in his face even remember the motions for eating?<p>

_I suppose I will find out._

Tentatively, Thranduil picked a grape off of his plate and raised it to his lips. He hesitated before putting it in his mouth, but did so nonetheless. It had been days since he had actually felt hungry, but now, he was famished.

He chewed the grape slowly, each small movement hurting his face and straining his injured muscles. There was a pained tear in his right eye as he swallowed. A bit of saliva leaked out of his mouth and he carefully wiped it off with a napkin, feeling pathetic. It hurt to eat and it was making him drool. Just wonderful. _So _befitting of a king.

He turned from his meal as there was a knock at the door. He was eating alone in his bedchamber by the light of a few candles, and he hadn't expected anyone. He didn't rise to answer it. He didn't want company at the moment.

"_Ada, _it's me."

"Come in, Legolas." Thranduil tried to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. His son was the last person that he wanted to see at the moment, but he couldn't expect him to stay away forever.

He turned in his chair as the door opened and Legolas entered the room. His son came and sat in the other chair at the small table.

"You have been eating?" He looked to Thranduil's plate.

"Trying." He could admit to his son that it was difficult. It truly was.

"Have you… seen it?" Legolas seemed hesitant to ask.

"No," Thranduil answered. "And I do not want to." He remembered his horror at feeling what it was like without the bandages. It would be a long while before he would be able to handle seeing the devastation.

He realized that his _ionn's _expression was slightly pained and he was breathing a little different.

"What happened?"

"I went to visit your elk."

Thranduil laughed for the first time in a very long while. It hurt, but it felt good to laugh.

"You knew he was going to kick me?"

"He kicks everyone," Thranduil explained in amusement.

"Except for you."

"He likes me."

"He's grumpy… And spoiled." Legolas seemed to add that as afterthought.

Thranduil chuckled. "Sounds like me."

Legolas looked slightly astonished by this statement.

"Yes, I know I am a _huil_."

"But…" Legolas looked a tad confused. "That does not suit your gender."

"You are not bothered by the fact that I swore at myself." Thranduil was smiling. "Face it, _ionn. _I am a _huil._"

"You're strange sometimes," Legolas commented.

Thranduil didn't respond to that, only chuckled a little.

"Are you going to eat?" Legolas asked, pointedly glancing at his plate. The humor was suddenly gone.

"I am not hungry."

"But you said-"

"That I was trying to eat, not that I was hungry." Thranduil's tone was sour.

"How could you not be hungry?" Legolas looked confused. "You have not eaten in days."

"You are in no place to question me!" Thranduil snapped, rising from his chair. He _was _hungry, but he wasn't going to eat in front of Legolas. It would be terribly shameful.

"_Ada?_" Legolas looked a tad hurt. He had backed up his chair a little.

"Get out."

"What?"

"I want you to leave my chambers," Thranduil seethed. "Go fool around with a _hauthwaid _or something."

Legolas looked insulted by this statement, which was the point. Thranduil knew that his son was still a virgin. Thirty seven was much too young to give that up. He knew Legolas wouldn't, even though he had just suggested it as something else to do other than bothering him.

"Alright, _ada._" Legolas stood, looking hurt. "You could have just asked nicely." With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Thranduil sat back down heavily and looked reluctantly to his plate. His stomach growled. This task would not be high on dignity, and could possibly take a long time.

* * *

><p><em>huil <em>- bitch

_hauthwaid _- consort, bed-buddy, concubine, (whichever you prefer. Yes, that actually is in the elvish language.)


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry about how long this chapter took. I wasn't really feeling it for a while. It's kind of fluffy, 'cause even angst needs to take a break. Maybe more emotional torment will come next chapter.**

* * *

><p>Legolas winced at the sound that came out of Tauriel's flute. It sounded like a broken screech. He tried not focusing on the sound though. Ignoring the atrocious noise, his eyes went to the way her lips formed over the embouchure, those lovely, pink lips that he often imagined kissing. He'd never kissed anyone before, but he would like her to be the first - maybe the only one - he would kiss.<p>

Tauriel lowered the flute and heaved a frustrated sigh. "I am absolutely terrible at this."

"You only got it yesterday," Legolas pointed out. "You cannot expect to be an expert."

"I know," she said with a frown. "I just want it to sound better than a dying animal."

"It is better than me," Legolas said, chuckling. "I cannot even get a sound out."

Tauriel laughed, a nice, high-pitched laugh that Legolas loved. Being this close to her while she laughed nearly made him blush.

"What?"

"You are just positioning your lips wrong," Tauriel explained.

"Does it matter?" Legolas took the flute from her and raised it to his lips. "Don't you just have to blow into it?" He took a breath to try to get a sound out, but Tauriel snatched it from him so that he exhaled on empty air.

"_No_. You are doing it wrong." She arched her eyebrows at him.

"Then how am I supposed to do it, oh wise and mighty master?"

"Oh, shut up, _gwilwileth _and watch me." Legolas blushed at his embarrassing nickname, but watched as Tauriel lifted the flute to her lips and carefully pursed them over the embouchure. "Like that," she said as she lowered it. Legolas was still fixed on her lips as she handed the flute to him. He didn't notice.

"Legolas?" She waved the flute. "Hello?"

"Right, sorry." Legolas shook his head to clear his thoughts and took the flute from her. Usually he would be eager to put his lips to something that had just had Tauriel's on it, but he wasn't fond of the sound it made. He sighed. "Maybe we should do something else."

"Are you alright?" Tauriel asked, sitting down on her bed. Legolas felt privileged to be in her bedchamber, to see where she slept.

Legolas shook his head and sat next to her. "Thinking about my _ada._" Well, part of that was true. Mostly he was just so distracted by Tauriel's presence, but he couldn't tell her that. She would either laugh at him or take it the wrong way and be insulted.

"How is he?" Tauriel looked concerned. For his father or for him?

"Bitter," Legolas responded. "He said some things to me last night that I am hoping he did not mean."

"Such as…?" Tauriel prompted. She nudged him with her shoulder to try to lighten the mood.

"I probably should not repeat it," Legolas answered, directing his gaze from the floor to her beautiful face. "I was just trying to look out for him and he got angry." Now that he was talking about it, he realized that it really did hurt him. Either he was being distracted by Tauriel or worrying about his father.

"I am sure he did not mean it," Tauriel said, giving him a quick hug that made his heart race. He knew she had meant it as a friendly gesture, but her touch still sparked excitement in his belly.

Legolas frowned. "It does not matter. He still said it." He wasn't looking at her. He couldn't or his face would turn red.

"There is something else going on, is there not?"

"What makes you think that?" Legolas asked, glancing at her quickly before directing his gaze back to the floor. His emotions were a confused jumble that he couldn't sort through.

"You will not look at me." Her tone was hurt. "Is there something wrong?" Now she seemed anxious, fussing with her hair and tapping her foot. "Do I have something in my teeth?" She was bringing a hand up to touch her teeth, but Legolas suddenly grabbed her wrist.

He only gave himself time to think: _I am such an idiot, _before he kissed her. It was clumsy; he nearly missed her lips and hit her nose instead. He felt her stiffen at this sudden interaction, and Legolas quickly pulled away, face turning beet red.

"I-I have to go," he stuttered, standing, rubbing his head in embarrassment.

Tauriel rose to, looking unsure of what to think."Legolas-"

"No, I really have to go." He darted out of the room as fast as he could.

* * *

><p>Thranduil was woken from his nap by a knock on the door. With a heavy sigh, he sat up and said, "Come." It didn't matter how he looked, because he couldn't make himself look good anyway. Not yet. Probably not ever.<p>

"Good evening, _ada_," Legolas said quietly as he tentatively stepped into the room, but only halfway.

"That time already?" Thranduil asked, looking around his bedchamber. He realized it was dark save for the candles that had been lit on either side of his bed. Servants must have done that while he was sleeping.

"Yes. Would you like dinner? I could ask a serv-"

"I am alright. Not hungry." That was a blatant lie, but Thranduil did not want to eat. It hurt to do so. Hopefully his stomach wouldn't decide to give him away. "Now come in. You are only halfway in the room."

"Are you sure?"

Thranduil sighed, realizing that he would have to apologize about the night before. Apparently his son had thought that he had really meant it.

"I am sorry about my insulting words last night, _ionn. _I did not mean it."

"I-I know."

"Then come on in." He gave him a reassuring smile and patted the spot next to him. "I could use the company."

With a weak smile of his own, Legolas came all the way into the bedchamber and shut the door, coming to sit on the bed beside Thranduil.

"How was your day?" Thranduil asked, realizing that he should be attentive in this conversation. It still hurt to Mordor and back to speak, but he couldn't stand being silent. "Did you attend your lessons?"

"I do not have lessons on the weekend, _ada._"

Thranduil was a tad shocked by the response. He had known he had lost track of time, but how had a whole week already come and gone?

"Oh, um… alright. Sorry."

"_Ada, _it is alright if you have lost track of time."

"What day is it?" He felt confident that he could ask Legolas without looking shameful.

"October 17th," Legolas responded. "Saturday."

"And what did you do today?"

Legolas shrugged in response.

"Really? All you are going to give me is a shrug."

Looking away from him, Legolas shrugged again.

"Is everything alright?" Thranduil asked.

"I am fine, _ada._"

"Then stop shrugging." Thranduil chuckled at a joke he was about to make. "Legolas, what did you eat for breakfast? Shrug. Legolas, what did you learn today? Shrug. Legolas, what-"

"I was with Tauriel," he suddenly answered.

"That is not a bad thing if you are just going to remain friends," Thranduil said. Why did his son seem so worried about what he would think?

Legolas now had a slightly ridiculous smile on his face. "Friends."

"Legolas, remember what I told you about-"

"Yes, yes, I know," he responded with a roll of his eyes that Thranduil let side. "I am a prince and I should not fool around with a Sylvan elf. And I am not, so do not give me another lecture about it."

"Okay." Thranduil was a bit taken aback by his son's response. There was a bit of silence that felt awkward. "Is there someone that you _do _like?"

There was the ridiculous smile on his face again. He looked to Thranduil. "How did you know?"

"Experience. Who is she?"

Legolas hesitated a little before answering. "Her name is Elora."

"And?" Thranduil nudged him.

"And what?"

"What does she look like? How old is she? Things like that."

"She is... forty. She has the most beautiful blonde hair - all down to her waist - a-and stormy gray eyes. She can sing too." Legolas was blushing a bit as he looked back at Thranduil. "What about you? Anyone you like?"

"_Ionn,_" Thranduil began tiredly. "You know I can't-"

"I know." Legolas looked a bit down, but then he perked up again. "But, anyone pretty?"

"One of the healers, I think, but it is hard to tell out of one eye." He didn't mind admitting that to his son. One of them _was _really pretty, as far as he could tell. He wondered if he could-

"Do you still have your other eye?" Legolas asked quickly, interrupting his thoughts. "I mean-"

"Yes, it is still there," Thranduil answered, turning his head to better view his son. "But I cannot see out of it and never will be able to."

Legolas nodded solemnly.

"Do not worry, _ionn_," Thranduil said, good-naturedly throwing an arm over his shoulders. He didn't want his son to be disturbed. "Let us talk more about women. Tell me about Elora."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Haha. Legolas made up a girly-friend.**


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Legolas left, Thranduil jumped out of bed and began putting out the numerous candles. Who had lit them and why? Fire was dangerous. Fire could hurt him. Fire _had _hurt him. He didn't care if it was a tiny speck compared to the dragon's fire, a speck for light that he used to see has harmless. Fire _hurt._

Once all the candles were out, Thranduil climbed back into bed, comforted by the dark. Light meant heat, and heat had burned his face.

_All the things I used to think were so harmless are now haunting me. _He wondered what his wife would have thought, seeing him in this state. She had been a caring, compassionate woman, but would she have stayed with him through this? He had lost his beauty. Would anyone even want him as king anymore?

_But Legolas is too young to take the throne. He has not started learning yet. Regents. That could work._

Thranduil stopped, realizing that he was probably being unreasonable. A mark on his face shouldn't deprive him of his throne.

_But it's not just a simple mark._

He placed a hand over the bandages. He thought of taking them off again, but he wouldn't. He was terrified. He didn't know how he would react if he saw it. Most likely kill himself, and he couldn't do that.

_I _will _remain king, _he promised himself. _Even if I have to rule from the shadows._

With a heavy sigh, Thranduil rolled onto his right side and closed his eye, hoping sleep would soon find him to take away the troublesome thoughts in his mind. He prayed to Eru that he would not dream.

But prayers were useless.

* * *

><p><em>He was sinking in his own bathtub, unable to move as the unbearably hot water consumed him. All he could do was scream as it boiled off his skin, but then his voice was engulfed by steam and the terrible, burning liquid. He felt his face fall off…<em>

_And then Thranduil was sitting in the dark on a hard surface. Stone, most likely. He wasn't quite sure where he was. He waited for his eyes to adjust, but that didn't happen. The darkness flooded his vision and consumed everything. There was no hope for light in this place. Light was bad, so this should have been a good thing, but there was something out there in the darkness. Moving. He could hear it, slithering and scraping against the stone._

_He closed his eyes and murmured a prayer under his breath. There was no point looking. Perhaps he wasn't even in a dark room. Perhaps his sight had been taken from him._

"_I bet you would taste good cooked, little king."_

_Thranduil jolted at the voice, deep, gravelly, and familiar._

_Smaug._

"_N-No."_

"_But I did not get to finish." _

_Thranduil felt the body of the dragon all around him, as if Smaug had curled himself around his prey so that he could not escape. Gold coins shifted and clinked together under the dragon._

"_I-If you d-d-did, there would b-be on-only a-ash," he stuttered. His voice was failing him. It felt like fear was slowly strangling him with hands that were hot and cold all at the same time._

"_Hmm... " Smaug almost purred. "Then what _should _I do with you?"_

"_I-"_

_Thranduil was interrupted by fire. He didn't see it through his closed eyelids. He _was _blind, but that didn't matter, because now he was burning alive. He fell to the floor, writhing in panic. He couldn't breathe. He could feel no pain, though he knew he should have._

_And then, as if he had lost control of his body, he simply stood up and started walking. He could see now, but it was only through a haze of red and orange flame, like a terrible, magical shroud had been placed over his eyes. He was still on fire; he could feel it burning off his clothes, destroying his hair, but even as it destroyed his body, he still could not feel it. He just walked._

_He was strolling through his palace, hidden away in the massive cave. He gave nods to the familiar people he passed, and servants and subjects bowed before him. None seemed to notice how he burned, so he did not voice this, didn't bring attention to it. He was fine, wasn't he?_

_Thranduil turned a corner and nearly bumped into Legolas. He was wearing the Crown of Winter, and was dressed in rich, silken robes._

"_Legolas, what are you doing with that?" He reached out a hand to pluck the crown from his son's head. He should know better not to play with it._

"Ada," _Legolas began, placing two protective hands over the crown, "You gave it to me."_

"_Why would I do that?" His son still didn't seem to notice that he was on fire._

Oh well. There is nought to be done about it.

"Ada, _are you well?" Legolas looked mildly concerned._

"_Of course, _ionn_. Of course. Attend to your duties." With a little shake of his head, Thranduil continued on, but he only progressed a few feet before he collapsed to his knees. The _pain. _He could only feel it in his face, eating away at his skin with incredibly sharp teeth and powerful jaws. It hurt, it _hurt!

"Ionn! _Help me!"_

"Ada!" _Legolas knelt down and shook him roughly._

* * *

><p>Thranduil was awoken by a vigorous shake and he darted up in his bed, a scream escaping his throat before he could stop it.<p>

"_Nin brannon_," a female voice said from the darkness. "Is everything alright?"

"D-Dreams," he gasped out. He ran his hands over his chest. His skin was feverish and sweaty, but not burning. He was fine… Well, as fine as he could be at the moment. "What are you doing in my chamber?"

There was a light laugh. "I am one of your healers _nin brannon. _Ninyen."

"Ninyen," he repeated. "Lovely name." He realized he recognized her voice. She was the pretty one he had told Legolas about.

"Oh, um, thank you, _nin brannon_." He could hear the embarrassment in her voice.

"Why have you come to check on me?"

"Y-You were screaming, _nin brannon_."

"Yet you did not call for my guards?" Wouldn't that have been the reasonable thing to do instead of rushing in there all on her own?

"I knew you were not in danger except from your mind."

"And what do you mean by that?" Thranduil's eye was adjusting to the darkness, and he could see her now, standing by the side of the bed. He just now realized that she still had her hand on his shoulder.

"You have gone through something terrible, and it takes a long time for the mind to get over such trauma," Ninyen explained. "It could ail you for a long time."

Thranduil took insult by this. His mind? His mind was perfectly healthy! He wasn't some crazy loon who ran around in strange clothes and sang songs in gibberish, so then he must be okay!

"I am not crazy, Ninyen." His voice was cold, a contrast to his body. He could feel it now, and he was uncomfortable. He felt disoriented and he had a headache. Heat flashed through his body in uncomfortable waves that made him dizzy. He flopped ungracefully back down onto his pillow. "I am wounded."

"A physical wound can be a wound in the mind."

"I do not care for such philosophy." He realized Ninyen's hand was on his forehead and he heard her give a shocked gasp.

"_Nin brannon, _you are burning up!"

Thranduil gave a weak chuckle that sparked pain in his face. "Elves do not get fevers."

Ninyen didn't respond to that. She removed her hand from his forehead and said, "I will return shortly."

"To do what?" However, due to whatever was happening to him, he reacted late to her words and his fell on an empty room. With a moan, coming to realize just how uncomfortable and in pain he was, Thranduil once again found unconsciousness. It was blissful for a while, but then the nightmares returned.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I awkwardly realized that I have been using the possessive wrong for the past nine chapters. It comes after the word it's possessing, not before. Sorry for my confusion. I will end up going back to those earlier chapters and fixing it... sometime in my life.**

* * *

><p>Legolas entered his <em>ada's <em>chambers the next morning to find him unconscious, surrounded by healers. He quickly turned away, not sure if the bandages had been pulled off or not. He didn't want to see.

"Is there something wrong with my _ada_?" he asked tentatively. He didn't know whether or not this was a normal process. "Other than the usual?"

"You may turn around, _caun nin_," one of the healers, a woman, said. Maybe she was the one Thranduil had said was pretty. "His bandages are still in place."

With a deep sigh of relief that he didn't bother suppressing, Legolas turned back to the healers.

"Is my _ada _well?" he inquired.

"He has a fever," one of the men said with a shake of his head.

"But… we do not get fevers." Legolas was confused. What was going on? Just to make sure, he pushed past the healers and put the back of his hand over the exposed part of his father's forehead. He was hot like an oven that had just started to cool after use, and there was sweat dappling his skin. His one visible eye was held tightly shut, and even in his sleep he seemed to be in great pain and discomfort.

Legolas pulled his hand back in shock when a whimper came past his father's lips. He'd never heard him sound like that. It hurt him to see his father in a weakened position. He hadn't seen him so vulnerable since his mother died.

"Infected wounds can cause fevers," one of the healers suggested. Legolas took a few steps back to let them around Thranduil again, the hand he had touched him with trembling. He could almost still feel the heat under his fingers.

Knowing that they were going to remove the bandages, Legolas left the room, in a daze. He felt sick. He hadn't even seen the wound, but… He hurried down a few hallways carved in the stone before stopping and leaning his back against the wall. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His father would be okay. He was sure he would. Not even heartbreak could kill him, so this certainly wouldn't. _Was _he dying? Infections could kill, couldn't they?

Grotesque images sprang into his head of what his _ada's _face could possibly look like, but he shoved them away. He didn't need those in his head. He never wanted to see.

Legolas' thoughts were interrupted by a polite clearing of the throat, and he opened his eyes and straightened to find one of the palace guards standing before him.

"_Caun nin, _you have a visitor, but I did not know whether or not to let her in."

_Oh great. Tauriel. _He wasn't ready to confront her after what had happened the night before. What if she was angry? What if she rejected him? What if…?

"Tauriel?" Legolas asked for confirmation. It would do no good to let a random stranger into the palace.

"That is how she gave her name, yes."

"Allow her in. I will meet her in my sitting room. Escort her there." The words came out clearly, without trouble, though his heart was hammering against his ribcage and his hands were beginning to sweat. At least he was outwardly cool and collected.

"Yes, _caun nin_." With a low dip of his head and slight incline of his body, the elvish form of a bow, he left.

_I cannot do this right now. Why does she have to do this right now?_

Legolas made his way to his sitting room, thoughts swimming through his head, chasing each other around like hungry fish that couldn't quite gobble each other up. _Ada. _Tauriel. _Ada. _Tauriel. His mind couldn't decide what was more important, more pressing.

_Maybe you should just focus on the things you can control. You can partially control the situation with Tauriel. Maybe._

Legolas' sitting room was spacious and comfortable, though he would have preferred to have windows. It wasn't on the outer side of the cave however, so he was just left with candles, braziers, and torches as other forms of light. He sat nervously on one of the green-cushioned sofas and bounced his legs up and down, hands fiddling in his lap.

He realized that kissing Tauriel had left him with a terrible predicament. What if she did not like it and thought he was being rude? What if she didn't want to be friends anymore? But what if she _did _like it and she wanted to be more than friends? He would have to keep it a secret from his father. Either way, it wouldn't work out. Remaining just as friends was another option, though it would be rather awkward for a time. Legolas secretly hoped for that one. He felt like he was stupid for having kissed her. He should have just left well alone and let his attraction die down, because it probably would. He was probably only attracted to her because she had been in his life for such a long time now. Plus, she had helped him cope with his mother's death…

Legolas' thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Legolas, may I come in?" It was Tauriel's voice: sweet, but anxious.

_At least I am not the only one._

"Of course."

At his words, Tauriel came tentatively into the room, wringing her hands in front of her.

"We need to talk."

"I know." Legolas stood and came over to her, closing the door. "I apologize for my actions last night. I should not have-"

His words were interrupted as Tauriel suddenly kissed him, quick, a little too rough, and kind of sloppy, but it was a kiss nonetheless. She pulled away, blushing, but her green eyes shining.

"I liked it," she said, twirling a finger through her hair. "But…"

"But what?" What was she going to say? His mind was still reeling from that kiss.

Tauriel looked up and suddenly punched him in the arm. Legolas jumped and gave a little yelp.

"But it was still stupid." Those words were accompanied by a smile. The blush in her face had toned down to a much lighter shade of pink. "What if your father finds out?"

Legolas grinned, remembering the conversation he and his _ada _had had the night before.

"I made up a girl."

"What do you mean you made up a girl?" Tauriel looked kind of confused.

"I mean, a girl for me to court. He seemed to believe me."

"What's her name?" Tauriel's voice held a slight twinge of jealousy.

"Tauriel, she's not real," Legolas explained with a sigh. "I just made her up to deter my father."

"And?"

"Her name is Elora."

"Okay. Good start. But what if he asks to meet her?"

"Er…" Legolas now wasn't quite sure. He hadn't thought of that. "We're not seeing each other anymore?" he suggested with a shrug.

"He will not believe that, you know."

"I know. How hard do you think it would be to find a blonde wig?"

"Excuse me?" Tauriel placed her hands on her hips, looking at him quizzically.

"My _ada _has not seen you since you were younger, and if you wore a wig and maybe some makeup, he would not recognize you," Legolas explained. "If it ever came to that."

"_Gwilwileth, _you know I do not wear makeup." Tauriel said that word distastefully.

"Never a wrong time to start."

"Are we going to have a fight before we are even courting each other?" Tauriel's voice held humor and annoyance all at the same time.

"Who says we are going to be courting each other?"

"You kissed me, you idiot! What else is that supposed to mean?!" She tried punching him again, but Legolas swerved out of the way.

"I like you," he explained. "A lot. But I do not know if it can go anywhere."

Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Stop making everything so complicated."

"But it is," Legolas retorted.

Tauriel shook her head and gave another roll of her eyes, but it seemed affectionate. "I have to go, but you should come to my house for dinner tonight."

"Your parents will not suspect-"

"I am allowed to have friends over for dinner, stupid." Tauriel hit him again, but lightly. She smiled at him. "I will see you later."

Legolas nodded his head, unsure of what to say. It was just _now _hitting him that Tauriel returned his feelings.

Another smile on those wonderful lips. "Good to know I make a boy speechless." And with that, she left.

Legolas stood at the door for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. Then he straightened his clothes and smiled. He had a date with Tauriel.

* * *

><p><em>caun - prince<em>

**A/N: Thanks for putting up with the fluff. I wasn't expecting any in this story but then Legolas kind of took over his role from me. I don't actually ship these two, but I almost feel like this would have happened when they were younger. I realize that the timeline is off, but i'm really not clear on ages or on when certain events occurred. I'm glad you guys are still reading it though! Thank you!**


	11. Chapter 11

_Thranduil was being tortured by dwarves. He knew that the little creatures didn't like him, but did they really have to act like this? He had found himself lying on a smooth, stone table, ankles and wrists tied down with leather cords, another one going across his chest so he couldn't try to lift himself up. He couldn't see the creatures' faces, but it was obvious from the height and build that they were dwarves. And the smell! _

There are a lot of reasons why elves don't like you.

_They had torn the bandages off of his face, fascinated by the wound there. That was where they brought all there attention: poking thick, grubby fingers at it and making him cry out, in which they would snicker and chuckle._

"_Stupid little woodland sprite," one of them said. "Went off and tried to fight a dragon."_

"_Tried taking something that's not yours too." The dwarf that had spoken jammed his finger hard at the wound and Thranduil jerked, giving a yelp. If only they could stop touching him!_

"_Do not lay your hands on me!" he yelled, desperation creeping into his commanding tone. "I am a king."_

"_Not with that face, you're not," another dwarf spoke up. "Besides, you're not _our _king."_

_His right eye was moving this way and that to try to keep track of their movements. It frightened him to no end that he couldn't see out of his left eye. It was hard to see anything with his right too. Wherever he was was dark, the only light coming from dim flickers that he couldn't quite pinpoint the location of._

_Thranduil choked and spluttered as water was suddenly poured over the wound, some of it making its way through the ruined muscle and bone and into his mouth. He screamed in agony once he managed to spit it out. What were they doing to him? Why?_

_Then there was something rubbing at his face, something soft and gentle, but it still hurt to no end. He struggled against his restraints and twisted his head this way and that, screaming, trying to get away from the pain. Why couldn't they just _stop?

_Whatever it was - a cloth maybe - that had been rubbing at the wound was removed and more water was poured over it. He shrieked and gurgled, choking, feeling as if he was drowning. Once he managed to clear his throat, he yelled as loud as he could: "_Stop!"

_Thranduil somehow managed to get his right hand free and he swung out with it wildly, forming a fist. He heard a cry and one of the dwarves staggered back._

"_Hold him!" That was a woman's voice, and it sounded familiar. _

_Ninyen?_

The voice pulled him out of his dream to reality, which wasn't much better. Different pairs of hands were holding him to his bed and someone was washing the wound on his face. His right eye rolled madly, searching out faces, trying to figure out what else was going on. It felt like his body was burning and he had a terrible headache.

He closed his eye and released another scream as the painful - though gentle - scrubbing continued. He tried twisting his head at a certain angle that would make it more difficult to reach, but someone held his chin and jaw in a crushing grip. He fought crazily with his limbs, still screaming, but they wouldn't release him. He realized that there were tears coming out of his right eye. He had gone through too much to be ashamed of it, however.

The water returned. It wasn't the deluge that had been in his dream, but it was still enough to make him cough. His chest heaved and he kept trying to rise off the bed, to fight off the people that were holding him. His left leg came free and he felt his foot connect with something. There was a grunt and then a thump.

"Get his leg!" Ninyen ordered. _She _was the one washing the wound.

_And I thought I liked you!_

His leg didn't have freedom for long. Someone soon clamped their hand down on his ankle to still his movements.

Thranduil gave a helpless sob as the cloth was back on his face, tried turning his head away again, but the hand clamped harder.

"I am sorry, _brannon nin_," Ninyen said gently. "I am almost done."

"Stop," he choked out through the pain. "Just stop now. Please." He didn't have the strength to scream anymore. He sobbed quietly and whimpered, tears sliding down his right cheek. He felt so weak and helpless and vulnerable. There was so much pain that he couldn't fight back against, that he couldn't endure. What was he to do?

"I am _sorry, nin brannon._" Ninyen continued talking, trying to soothe him, but her words were meaningless, even with her sweet voice. Lies. All lies. He wasn't going to be fine. It wasn't going to be done soon, because the pain never stopped.

Thranduil became halfway unconscious, falling back into dreams that twisted with reality. Ninyen's voice became his wife's.

"_It is going to be fine," she told him. Her blue eyes were sparkling and there was a smile on her face, as if nothing was wrong._

"_It is?" Thranduil wasn't even sure what they were talking about. They were lounging on the bed together, and she had his chin cupped in her hand. _

"_Yes, darling, it is." She kissed him on his left cheek and he flinched at the sudden pain it brought. What was wrong with him? He moved away from her slightly and brought a hand to his face. It didn't feel the way it was supposed to. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He didn't even feel skin. He felt… other things, things that shouldn't be exposed to the air: muscles, tendons, bone._

_Thranduil screamed in terror and pulled his hand away, darting up off of the bed and to the mirror. His face looked fine, then why did it not feel like it was. Then his mind finally comprehended the pain, the horrible, burning pain that didn't make sense. He was trembling. It felt like his body was on fire. He felt weak and lightheaded, and there was an ache behind his eyes. He put a hand to his head and stumbled back over to the bed. His wife hadn't said anything so far, just studied him curiously._

"_What is wrong, _meleth?" _She gave a slight giggle. "I did not bite."_

"_It _hurt_." Thranduil looked at her, terror running naked through his eyes. "It _still _hurts."_

"_It will be fine, _meleth." _His wife sat up and came over to him, stroking her fingers gingerly over the left side of his face. He winced and tried to move away, but she grabbed his chin. "Nothing is wrong, Thranduil."_

"_But there _is _something wrong." There was a quaver in his voice from fear and pain. He felt disoriented and dizzy too, and would just like to lay down and be left alone. "Stop touching me."_

"_But you have a beautiful face, _meleth."

"_Then touch the other side, if you insist." Thranduil gritted his teeth as his wife continued her ministrations, touches that should have felt good, but instead sparked a horrific fire in his nerves._

"_Everything is going to be fine, _brannon nin."

"_Don't tell me that."_

"_Everything is going to be fine."_

* * *

><p>Thranduil woke many hours later, afternoon sunlight flooding into his bedchamber. He moaned in pain and distress and shut his eye against it. It was too bright, too much like fire. When would he ever be comfortable with simple daylight.<p>

"_Brannon nin?_" It was Ninyen's voice.

"Yes?" His voice barely came out. It was an ugly, distorted croak and his throat hurt.

"How are you faring?"

Thranduil opened his right eye again and found her sitting in a chair on the right side of his bed. Good. She seemed to understand that being on his left side made him uncomfortable.

"Terrible," he whispered, closing his eye again. "What happened?" He remembered something, but it wasn't clear, like a dream that faded when you woke. There was screaming, from him. He was sure of that. It would explain why he felt like he had swallowed a bunch of thorns.

"Your wound is infected and you have a fever."

"Lovely." It was a tired murmur against his pillow. No wonder he felt so weak and achy. "You stayed with me?"

"Yes. And I will continue to until your fever goes away."

Thranduil gave a little smile, but then it faded. He realized he wouldn't like to have someone doting on him like this.

"You must take care of yourself too," he whispered.

"You come first, _brannon nin. _It is my job," she explained.

"What about at night?" Thranduil could feel himself drifting off again, but he at least wanted to talk for a bit.

"I will sleep on the floor."

"But…" He was interrupted by a yawn that hurt his face and turned into a moan. He made himself finish talking anyway. "But there is a perfectly good bed right here."

"_Brannon nin-_"

"It is just an offer to make you comfortable, Ninyen."

"I will think about it."

"And I will sleep," Thranduil murmured, words barely audible.

"Good. You need it."

"Wake me if I have a nightmare."

"And how will I know?" Ninyen sounded concerned.

"Trust me. You will."

* * *

><p><em>meleth - <em>love

**A/N: I personally love dwarves, but I thought it would be interesting to put Thranduil's hate in there.**


	12. Chapter 12

Thranduil woke later, around what must have been dinner time; he smelled some sort of food, realizing that he was famished. He sat up with a groan, face aching, and looked around the room with his right eye. Faded light, orange with the setting of the sun, came in through his windows, and candles were already lit in preparation for the coming dark.

He turned his head at the sound of his door softly closing and found Ninyen standing nearby it, a tray in her hands.

"Oh, _brannon nin, _I was not actually expecting you to be awake." She seemed slightly startled.

Thranduil didn't comment on that and just said, "That smells good," nodding his head towards the tray.

"So you are finally hungry." Ninyen came over and placed the tray on his lap, then sat down in the chair beside the bed. It held a simple meal: soup, and some bread with sliced cheese. He was thankful for it though. Especially the soup. Ninyen must have requested it because she knew that chewing was painful. He didn't hesitate to pick up the spoon and begin eating. He was careful putting it in his mouth though, only directing the spoon into the right side of his mouth. The heat in his mouth and throat bothered him, but he was just _so _hungry.

"Thank you," he finally thought to say when half of the soup was gone and he was beginning to slow down, the brunt of his hunger taken care of. He tilted his head at Ninyen for a reply. She shrugged gracefully.

"I am only doing my job."

Thranduil grunted. "_Your _job is to heal up my wound, not take care of all of my needs."

Ninyen shrugged again.

Thranduil ate in silence right up until he started chewing. He had pulled a piece off of the bread with his fingers and gingerly put it in his mouth. He winced as he slowly chewed, then swallowed. Shaking his head, he put the bread back on the tray. He was still hungry, but it was no use.

Ninyen gave him a sympathetic look. Her words were rather the opposite though. "Are you not even going to try?"

"I did," Thranduil said indignantly, pushing the tray to the side. "Besides, I am not hungry anymore."

"Of course you a-"

Ninyen cut her words off when Thranduil gave her a stern look. Good to know that he was still imposing with only half of his face showing.

"I will take your tray then." Ninyen stood and went around to the other side of the bed to grab the tray.

"Wait," Thranduil said curtly as she turned away, instinctively flinging out his left arm to grab her wrist. He mistakenly made the motion without turning his head, still not used to this handicap, and had a sore miss. His hand grazed against the fabric of her dress and followed a rather nice curve before he could recognize his mistake. He hurriedly turned his head, eye going wide in surprise when he realized where his hand was.

Ninyen looked at him, shocked too, and he hurriedly moved his hand away from her bottom. He could feel a blush rushing up his neck, and the left side of his face was uncomfortably hot, verging on pain.

"I did not mean to do that," he said. "I, uh…"

Ninyen smiled in what he hoped was amusement. Her face was a little flushed as well. "Turn your head next time."

"I will. It's just-" His voice was a little hoarse from embarrassment.

"And ask permission," she joked.

Thranduil chuckled. "I am the king. I do not have to _ask _for anything." He stopped himself, realizing how that sounded. "Well, I mean, I do, but-"

"What do you want?" Ninyen's voice was slightly tired.

"More soup?" He realized that his bandages felt damp, and he realized that his wound was bleeding.

"After I change your bandages," Ninyen said, seeming to forget the awkwardness of the moment before. "You're bleeding." She placed the tray down on his nightstand.

"I am fine," Thranduil insisted. "Just get the soup. You can change my bandages when you get back."

"But-" Ninyen began to protest.

"No protests." He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Go."

"Alright, _brannon nin._" She took the tray and left the room.

Thranduil put a hand to his bandages, drawing his fingers back to look at them when he felt something wet. Red had bloomed on his fingers. He wondered how he had started bleeding. Could blushing do that? It made sense when he thought about it.

_Alright, _he told himself. _Now is the best time. _He had grown too curious about what his wound looked like, but he hadn't been left on his own to look at it. He had a chance now. He just wondered how long Ninyen would be gone. He had to hurry.

Thranduil got out of bed and was hit with a wave of dizziness. He clutched the headboard to steady himself, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Did he still have a fever? He didn't think so, at least not a bad one.

Taking a deep breath to become more oriented, he released the bedpost and stood there for a time, making sure that he at least had his balance. He took slow, shaky steps towards his bathroom. He cursed when he realized that there were no lights in the room and went back out to grab one of the candles from his bedside. Being so close to the flame, feeling the little heat against his skin, started his heart fluttering in his chest, but he took it to the bathroom with him nonetheless. The whole point was to see his wound.

Thranduil set the candle down on the counter in front of the mirror. it cast a dim, eerie glow over his bandaged features. His hands trembled as he lifted them to his face.

_I can do this. I _can.

Thranduil braced himself, and began pulling off the bandages.


End file.
